A hike through geology: Arctic 5

Heart of the Arctic 5: Thursday July 28, 2022

My idea of gorgeous

Yesterday we got a chance to go out on the land. Most people signed up for the medium hike. The advanced and the difficult hikes were not billed as photographer friendly and I always want the chance to take a few photos without feeling that I’m holding the group up. In addition, as I get older, I find that I need to take more time to find my footing rather than just barrelling ahead.

It was a gorgeous day, another one warmer than I have ever experienced in the Eastern Arctic. When we landed the tide was out and we had a reasonable walk to where the life jacket bags were beyond the high tide line of the beach.

Each group had a leader and a bear guard. There was a polar bear sighted in the next drainage to where we were to be hiking. Our guide was the expedition’s geologist and he is more passionate about rocks than anyone I have ever met. He is a lovely fellow and capable of waxing poetic for ten minutes at a time about the geological features of whatever landscape we find ourselves in.

John Houston one of our bear guards

I hiked with his group the day before and we made frequent stops to look at the ground and the hills around us. He tends to start out his mini lectures with a question. Nothing wrong with that if you’re addressing a group of undergraduate geology students. As most of you know, I’m more interested in birds than rocks and the nuances of different types of granite and how they are formed are largely lost on me while I scan the skies for feathered things or try to find interesting compositions through my camera lens. We walked for a few minutes and then stopped as he pointed out yet another fascinating feature of the landscape.

The organizers of the groups had timed it so that there would be space between the various groups as we had landed at different times. After a while of sauntering and looking at rocks we noticed that the group behind us was catching up. One of the guides with that group tactfully pointed out that we were proceeding at the pace of the beachcombers, the ones who just wanted to hang out and putter around on shore. It was suggested that perhaps we should pick up the pace just a little.

Some of us were pretty keen on that and started to inch ahead of Marc to try to give him the hint that perhaps we should be moving on. That didn’t really work and the bear guard reminded us that we were supposed to be behind the guide. Sigh. Marc loves his rocks so much and he kept noticing features and stopping to tell us how excited we would all be by his latest discovery. Finally we got to the top of the saddle where Laura, our bear guard, had earlier seen caribou. We were pretty interested in looking for animals as we had noticed plenty of tracks on the way up in the soft mud of the tundra.

As we stood for a few moments on the saddle, the next group caught up with us. When Laura moved off some of us, a larger number of rebels this time, began to follow her. Martine, who was the bear guard for the other group called us back and reminded us again to stay behind the guide. I muttered to a friend, “Can we poke him with our hiking poles to get him to move a bit faster then?” Martine probably had consulted others on the radio and she certainly had noticed what was happening and the potential mutiny in our group. She offered us three options: if we had had enough hiking for the day we could return with her to the landing site and take time wandering the shore. If we wanted to do a bit more hiking we could go with a second group, and if we still felt energetic we could go with Marc’s group, the speedy ones. I bit my tongue wondering how long Marc would be able to go without stopping to point out something.


Since I was feeling good and partly because I was curious about how this would work in practice, I opted for the speedy group. Marc did manage to walk for longer periods without stopping to explain something and we proceeded over the saddle and down to a lake. Then Marc and Laura consulted the map and suggested we go back via the next drainage over. I was all for that as the views were spectacular and the temperature was warm. We won’t talk about the mosquitos.

With pretty much everyone in agreement, we started the climb up the side of the hill. The rock at that point was smooth and exposed and it was like walking on a highway. I was huffing and puffing as usual when I went uphill but was able to keep up quite well. I passed a couple of people who were clearly struggling. One woman who was retired from the military hailed from Florida and I guess there aren’t very many significant hills in Florida. She was cheerful and stopped frequently to take photos of flowers and bugs. I saw two bees on the hike but they didn’t stay in one spot for long enough for me to get a photo, so you’ll just have to trust me on that one.

Like a paved highway

A second woman was having an even more difficult time. She was moving ahead doggedly not speaking to anyone. Richard, who has hiked with many groups of people, has a great sense of when people are having a tough time of it and, like his dad, he wants to do his best to encourage them. I realized that I could no longer see him around the curve of the hill and figured he had stayed back to do what he could to help. When I got up to the group I mentioned to Marc what I thought was happening. At first he seemed relieved that someone was watching out for the slower folks.

Then he got a radio call that the tide was rising and we were to hurry to the zodiacs because it was getting tricky to load them in the deepening water. Someone called out to the group that it was time to put the pedal to the metal. I thought this was distinctly unhelpful because, from what I could see, the folks at the end were doing the best they could and to try to move faster would only make them more anxious and possibly lead to a fall.

When Richard reached us I told him I had spoken to Marc and he confided that, indeed, the woman at the end had fallen once while trying to negotiate a steeper, rockier part of the hill. Marc asked Trevor, the young, fit photographer, if he would take over as sweep. Richard and I rejoined the middle of the pack.

When we stopped next Trevor reported that the folks at the back didn't seem that interested in speeding up. Oh the confidence of youth! I well remember wondering why those older folks didn’t just speed up. I didn’t realize at the time that they were going as fast as they could. Now I see it could have been because they were having trouble catching their breath, or they were unused to the uneven terrain and were worrying about their footing, or perhaps a knee replacement or hip replacement made it more difficult to negotiate uneven terrain. I’m sure there are many other reasons I haven’t considered and that didn’t even cross my younger mind.

As we descended I got going a little faster than I should have and rolled my ankle, not once but twice. I wiggled it a bit and kept walking but it was a reminder not to let pace outstrip caution.

We all arrived at the shore in one piece and made it into the zodiacs albeit quite a bit later than when the last zodiac was supposed to leave. As we rode back I had mixed feelings. I was a bit frustrated that we had been so slow at the beginning and then had tried to make up the time by rushing. I also felt a connection to the two at the back of the pack. I’ve been in that position and I know what a horrible feeling it is to be holding up the group and to simultaneously be doing the very best you can to the point of exhaustion. I was lucky in the situation where I got in over my head on a hike to Western Brook Pond in Newfoundland. I had the opportunity to turn back which I did. It was a humbling experience.

In the zodiac heading home

It’s easy to say that the folks at the back should have joined a different group but the pace at the beginning was perfectly suitable to them and they didn’t know that the terrain would get more difficult. To be fair, the guides probably hadn't been on that particular hike either and were going from maps and what they were able to scout before the hikers arrived. 

I imagine there was an interesting debriefing among the staff at the end of the day. It’s so difficult to organize hikes for people of different abilities. All the passengers are adults and have paid a good chunk of change to be on this trip. It's all very well to tell people to consider their abilities carefully before selecting a group, but how can you accurately describe a hike so people will be able to make informed decisions? You can’t very well say to people, ‘You can’t go on this hike,’ because you don’t know what people’s capabilities are and so you have to trust them.

Maybe it’s the teacher in me, but I can’t help looking at the human interactions around me and wondering how things could be made better, even as I look through my lens or pick my way around the boulders. The day was wonderful, the temperature unseasonably warm, the skies blue, and the hills of the tundra spectacular. Getting back to the ship I felt satisfyingly tired and when I look at my photos during the dark winter days it is the feeling of accomplishment and privilege that will come back to me. I am so fortunate to be travelling in this land. It also does me good to remember that the hike leaders, as well as the hikers, are doing the best they can.

A pretty big hunk of quartz